


To the Gallows

by SunhatLlama



Series: Whumptober [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Jim Pissed Someone Off, Major Character Injury, Oblivious Jim, Open to Interpretation, Restraints, Stabbing, Suspense, What Did Jim Do This Time?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:01:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26821078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunhatLlama/pseuds/SunhatLlama
Summary: "Goddammit, not again," Jim sighed, closing his eyes. "I promised Bones that this wouldn't happen again. He is gonna be so pissed when he finds me." - When Jim wakes up alone and tied to a chair, he questions whether or not he will survive this time. Hurt!Jim --Whumptober Day 1
Series: Whumptober [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956319
Comments: 5
Kudos: 13





	To the Gallows

**Author's Note:**

> All mistakes are my own, no one beta'ed it nor looked it over. It's all me :D
> 
> I didn't know which rating to use, so it is a T+, but beware of gorier descriptions.

James T. Kirk opened his eyes, squinting at the sharp glare that was shining in his face. _Strange—I swore I turned the lights off._ Arching his back, he yawned and stretched his arms into the air, expecting the familiar crack of his bones.

Only, it never came.

He looked down at his arms, his eyelids groggy—he must have been asleep longer than he thought—but flinched back when he realized why.

His arms didn't even move; there was a coarse rope tied tightly around his wrists.

"Goddammit, not again," he sighed, closing his eyes. "I promised Bones that this wouldn't happen again. He is gonna be so pissed when he finds me."

Jim took that moment to examine his surroundings. He was restrained to what appeared to be a metal chair—the legs were slightly rusted and were not symmetrical. It was centered in the middle of the empty room he was currently in.

He quickly noticed that the room was empty of furniture and that every inch of it was pristinely clean; he could even smell the distinct scent of bleach still permeating the air as it lingered in the area.

The walls around him were decorated with red, floral wallpaper and there were various paintings of people he didn't recognize. The beings portrayed in the pictures appeared to be human, but he didn't know for certain. A large carpet was covering most of the cobblestone floor; if he tried hard enough, he could move the fabric with his foot. The room was bright with sunlight coming from the large bay window to his left and a door was situated across from it on his right.

Jim nodded with admiration. "Well, this is nice. At least I'm not in a grisly prison cell waiting to be hanged. These people at least have some style."

XXXXXX

A sharp clang from the other side of the door caught his attention. He had been trying to worm his hands out of his restraints—without much luck. They were expertly tied together like none he had ever seen before.

The handle turned with speed, yet, it almost seemed casual. In walked a burly man with a long brown beard through the entrance. He was bald, but stood at least 6'5'' at his peak; he had to bend over to step into the room.

"Captain James T. Kirk," the man said steadily and without emotion.

"Hello! It's nice of you to finally introduce yourself," Jim replied, smiling wide.

The bearded man did not acknowledge him. "You are hereby sentenced to death to the gallows for your crimes against this society."

You have got to be kidding me. His thoughts went wild as he tried to remember what he had done to offend these people. _Did I walk on the wrong side of the street? No, I did that last week. Did I flirt with the wrong lady? No, that was on Dublus II the month before that._

"H-Hey, wait a minute—what crime have I committed?" Jim stuttered, alarmed at the turn of events.

The bearded man (which he now dubbed Mr. Beard) glared daggers and he stepped forward, reaching towards Jim's arms. "You do not have the right to know that information."

Jim yelped, jerking his body away from the guy—almost tipping his chair over, but instead scraped the legs across the carpet.

His captor paid no attention to him and only gripped his arms tighter, dragging him to his feet and shoving him without kindness towards the door.

"Hey, hey, hey! Can't we talk about this?" Jim tried to pacify Mr. Beard—to no avail.

"Be quiet space scum."

Jim scoffed, stepping into the hall, standing tall with pseudo confidence. In truth, his fear was creating a deep pit on unease in his stomach—if his crew was looking for him, what was taking so long?

XXXXXX

The corridor echoed with their footsteps. The soft padding of boots across the carpet was strange to him; it contrasted greatly with the usual way he was sent to his death. There wasn't a cold damp cell, and, most importantly, he wasn't being sent down a long dark passage that was similar to an alleyway. Besides the whole 'sentenced to death' part, he could've called this experience relaxing.

A yell reverberated in his ears—the sound originating from somewhere behind him and his guard. Mr. Beard grabbed Jim in an iron grip and started pushing him further down the hall at a quicker speed. His face showed no inclination of worry, only the stillness of his well-practiced mask.

"Hey! What's going on?" Jim looked over his shoulder at the man.

"Quiet."

Jim growled with frustration. There had to be something important happening—otherwise, why would they have quickened their pace? Perhaps his crew was coming. _God, I hope so. This situation is becoming more and more doomed for me._

"Captain!" a sharp voice called out from down the hall behind them—it was laced with hope.

Mr. Beard glanced over his shoulder, his eyebrows furrowing with what Jim assumed was anger, and turned back to the front, his face peering, as if soulless, deep into Jim's irises—chills went down his spine and the pit of unease in his gut grew exponentially. _This guy is actually gonna kill me._

The man turned a sharp corner and Jim staggered on purpose—trying to surprise him. Mr. Beard's grip slipped off of Jim's arms and he turned around with a dangerous air to him. Jim—who was now on the ground—began to slide away from his captor before pushing himself off the floor and to his feet with adrenaline-fueled speed.

Jim put his hand out in front of him in a fighting stance, glaring with determination as his shoulders heaved systematically his breaths. "My crew is going to save me, bastard," he stated. "And I am not going to be killed in the gallows today, no matter what you say."

Mr. Beard chuckled, the sound was harsh and unpleasant, "You think that you will be saved? That you will walk away from this alive?" He took a menacing step towards Jim. "I will kill you where you stand. Right here, right now." Another step. "You will never see your beloved crew ever again. And they will find your corpse prone on the ground, head smashed in, and in a pool of your own blood—they will find nothing more than a carcass laying in the hall, a disappointing pile of flesh who couldn't even save himself." The man's horrid breath blew into his face.

Jim's eyes widened in shock as he realized the truth in the last statement, freezing where he was, unmoving. He's right, I can't even save myself.

The man's words were a mere whisper now—speaking directly into Jim's ear as he was smiling. Saying, "This is where you die," before shoving a dagger sharply into Jim's gut.

…

The room swam as Jim stared down the blade—dark crimson spilling down to the ground. He blinked a few times, trying to rid himself of the haze weighing down his mind and the ringing in his ears. The pounding in his head was the only thing he could perceive. _There is too much blood./em >_

__

...

__

"Jim!"

__

...

__

He turned around slowly, holding his wound the best he could—his eyelids heavy.

__

The last thing he saw before falling to the ground was Bones' frantic face and outstretched hand.

__

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know, y'all didn't expect the ending- or maybe you did, idk :D. But depending on what you guys want, I could make a part two of this story.
> 
> This is day one of my Whumptober prompts entitled, "Let's Hang Out Sometime"


End file.
